


I Don't Remember My Real Name

by scribbles_archive



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Nonbinary Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Remus is gay, Repression, Slow Burn, Temporary Amnesia, all that good angsty stuff, especially janus, i mean everyone's gay but he's extra gay, is it a slow burn if they were already dating?, it'll make sense just read it, patton thinks he's sherlock holmes, remus doesnt show up until later, spoilers for putting others first but not until later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24003520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribbles_archive/pseuds/scribbles_archive
Summary: Purple doesn't trust these people, but they go with them anyway.Yellow doesn't trust anyone, but he pretends to for their sake.Red thinks that they're hiding something, but trusts them anyway.Green doesn't think he should trust them, but he does.Bubbles is too trusting. Of course he'd trust these people, who else is there to trust?Blue is skeptical, but knows that working together is the only way to make it out.(aka all the sides wake up with amnesia and a bad feeling.)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 23
Kudos: 156





	1. Waking Up Is Hard, Especially When You Don't Remember How To

They woke up breathing hard and drenched in sweat.

They sit up in bed (is it their bed?) and take some deep breaths. They were supposed to (did they have to?) do that whenever they got anxious about something (what were they anxious about?). After a few beats, their heart rate returns to normal (was that a normal heart rate?) and they’re able to breathe normally.

Now, isn’t there a second thing they were supposed to (who told them to?) do when this happened? They think about this for a minute (longer? there isn’t a clock) and then it hits them.

_Who are they?_

Their heart starts beating faster again. No, no, no. This wasn’t right, (what was?) they were supposed to know what they were doing (who decided that?) they were supposed to be the one who protected (protected who?).

_Think, think, think._ There was a name for this, they knew that (how did they know that?). After a moment they remember- this was called amnesia (how did they know that?). They have a vague sensation of someone’s (whose?) voice explaining the definition of amnesia (why was the voice so annoyed? was it annoyed at them?) but they’re alone in the room. Maybe it was a memory (but they didn’t have memories) or maybe someone outside the room (was there a way to get out?) or maybe they were just losing it (maybe they were already insane).

Some sort of panic settles over them- even more than before. They grab at their sheets (seriously, was this their bed or not?) their chest tightening, like some sort of rope was trying to strange them. Wrong, wrong, wrong. They rock back and forth (this is comforting) and they have the same sensation of a voice again (not really there but not not there, and maybe they were just going crazy) but this time it was definitely talking to them.

_Virgil, do me a favor and name 5 things you can see._

Virgil. Is that their name? (thinking about their name for too long gives them an awful headache, and they decide not to dwell on it). Either way, the voice seems to want to help them, so they oblige.

_Five things I can see._

They look around the room (which feels strangely familiar).

_I can see… spiders_

_Purple (I like purple. It’s a soothing color)_

_Nightmare Before Christmas posters (how did I know what those posters are from?)_

_A puzzle book (I need to give that back) (who do I need to give it back to?)_

_A drawing pinned to the wall (why is that on the wall?) (It looks like a 5 year old did it)_

They take a breath.

_Now four things you can feel,_ continues the voice.

_The bedsheets._

_A hoodie (why am I wearing the hoodie?) (did I sleep in it?)_

_My hair (it’s all mussed up and in my eyes)_

_Pants._

_Three things you can hear?_

It’s so quiet in the room. “I can’t hear anything,” they say out loud (why were they talking to the voice? It wasn’t really there).

_I guess I can hear my voice, now. (why does my voice sound like that?) (It’s so low)_

They strain their ears and can hear… shouting? Voices? (why did they recognize the voices?) Maybe the voices should be comforting, because it means that there are people that could explain what’s going on (wow, a fully formed thought. they were impressed.) but the voices instead just made them more anxious.

_I can hear shouting._

After a minute, it dawns on them. If they can hear the voices, maybe the voices can hear them.

“Hello?” they call to the darkness, feeling slightly foolish. The voices stop, then start up again in a lower, more scared sounding tone. They can practically sense (maybe they can sense) the voices’ anxiety.

“Hello?” they call again. Silence, then a door on the other side of the room (was the door always there?) opens, and another person (person?) peeks into the room.

“Hello,” says the second person (person was a good enough word for now) cautiously. “Do you- do you remember anything?”

“No,” they say, silently judging the second person’s clothing choices (who the hell wears a bowler hat?). “Do you?”

“No,” says the second person. “No one remembers anything.”

“No one?” they ask, suddenly at attention. “There are more… people?”

“Three so far, counting you,” says the second person. “But maybe more. There are more doors that we haven’t opened yet.”

They think about this. There are more people. At least two others, maybe more. And none of them know anything.

They push themself out of the bed and make their way over to the second person (at least they still remember how to walk). “Do you know where we are?”

“No,” the second person says simply.

“Not the slightest clue?” they reply stingily. They have a bad feeling about this second person (why don’t they like him? they don’t even know him).

“No,” he repeats.

They sigh. “Do you know who we are, then?”

The second person thinks about this. “Maybe,” he says. He rubs the side of his face, and they notice for the first time that he has scales on the side of his face, like a snake (snakes are bad why are snakes bad?).

Their levels of distrust rise. “Tell me what you know.”

The second person rubs his face again, considering this. “I woke up today. Recently. There’s no clock so I don’t know the time. I didn’t remember anything. I got up and I opened someone else’s door- he’s mad at me but we don’t know why. And then we heard you and I went to open your door and now we’re here.”

They follow the second person out the door into a long corridor. There are six doors (six is important). One is theirs, two are open but not theirs. Three are closed.

The corridor seems to have rooms on either end, but Yellow leads him off to the right.

The corridor opens out into a room that looks like a living room. It has a couch, a few chairs, a television and a bookshelf lining the walls, and a coffee table sits in the middle. On the walls are several paintings, with various degrees of realism. There are a couple doors on one wall, all closed.

A third person (person? they need a better name for these things they’re meeting) is sitting on the couch. He’s wearing a blue tie (why does everyone here have terrible clothing choices?) and glasses (glasses glasses why are glasses so strange?).

“There’s another one?” asks the third person. The second person nods.

“He doesn’t remember anything either,” says the second person, rubbing his scales again (nervous habit?).

“They,” they correct. “They don’t remember anything.” They haven’t thought about this before, but _they_ is definitely correct and _he_ definitely isn’t.

“They don’t remember anything,” repeats the second person.

“Fascinating,” says the third person. He adjusts his glasses (nervous habit). “Well, I suppose we’d better find some way to address each other, if we don’t know who we are.”

They play with their hair. “Like… a name?” (once again, the idea of a name gives them a headache, like they’ve touched the surface of something deep and don’t want to go further).

“Or a nickname, I suppose. Since we don’t know our real names.” He adjusts his glasses again.

“Well, what do you suggest?” asks the second person. (he’s more anxious now that names have been brought up) (how did they know that?).

“I don’t know, I’m not the nickname guy!” says the third person. (they agree with this)

The second person scans the group. “We’re all wearing different colors. We could call each other by colors.”

They think about this. “So I’m Purple.”

“Yes, and I’d be Blue. You’d be Yellow,” Blue says, pointing at the third person.

“Yellow. I like that name,” says Yellow.

“Good. Well, that was easy enough,” says Blue. He pushes up his glasses. (why is he so nervous?) “What next?” 

"Maybe we should try figuring out where the hell we are.” The sarcastic tone has crept back into their voice, like a defence. “This is called amnesia, right? That’s the word for what’s going on?”

Blue nods. “We’ve forgotten all our memories of who or where we are. That sounds like amnesia to me.” He frowns. “Although, I don’t know how I know that’s what amnesia is…”

“Well, y’know, then maybe the next step is trying to remember those memories.” (why is everyone being so stupid it’s so obvious who we are) (who are we?)

Blue thinks about this. “I have a lot of books in my room. Maybe one of them is about amnesia… I’ll go check.” He stands and starts to make his way over to the door, but Yellow speaks up before he gets there.

“What about the other doors?”

Blue turns. “The ones in the hallway? What about them?”

“What if there’s something important behind them?” Yellow rubs his scales again (stop being so nervous you’re making it worse).“Don’t… don’t you feel it? They feel important.”

Blue’s eyes scan the hallway, the silence behind the unopened doors. “Perhaps. Maybe we could just open one… just to figure out what’s there.” He’s talking more to himself now. “Maybe they’ll know what’s going on.”

“Well, go on then!” Yellow’s voice is raised. They flinch (not a good voice they don’t like that voice). “Open it! What are you waiting for?” (why is he scared? he doesn’t sound scared) (but he is scared)

Blue flinches too, but he moves to the closest unopened door and puts a hand on the knob. He hesitates, Yellow and Purple watching him intently. (they can feel his fear.) (he’s worried about the door.)

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” says Yellow smoothly. Blue blinks at him for a moment, fear staring through his thick glasses. Then he turns the knob and pulls open the door.

Music floats through the air, leaking from the open door. The notes don’t form any sort of song- they’re just notes, moving vaguely through the hallway. Blue looks mildly surprised at this development, then pokes his head inside the room.

“Hello?” he calls.

No response.

“Hello?” Blue calls again. He inches inside, moving like he’s pushing through some invisible force. “Is there anyone in here?”

This time a sleepy voice responds from the room. “I’m here… wait.” There’s a pause. (they can feel fear climbing in the room) “Oh, oh god.”

Blue adjusts his glasses. “Do you remember anything?”

The voice is intense, like it’s used to having to speak over people. “Remember? No. I don’t… nothing.” (he’s full-on panicking now) “Oh my god… where am I? Who am I?” His voice becomes louder. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No. But if-”

“What? How are you so calm about this?” Another person comes out of the room (presumably this is the one the voice belongs to), this one dressed in red and white. He grips Blue’s shoulders. “Come on, nerd, you gotta help me here.”

Blue blinks and tries to push the fourth person’s hands back. “I told you, I don’t know any more than you do. Now calm down, and we can talk through this rationally.”

“No, we can’t!” the fourth person insists. “Do you know what I could’ve forgotten? I could’ve been a knight! A hero across the lands! And now I can’t remember any of it!”

“Well, maybe if you calmed down, we could help you remember it,” sighs Blue. He seems almost resigned, like he knew that he was going to have to deal with this. This concerns Purple at first (what if he knows something he’s not telling them?) but then they remember their anger at Yellow, and calm down some.

“I can’t just- wait. We?”

Blue gestures to where Purple and Yellow are standing. Purple gives a kind of half wave, and Yellow blows him a kiss. “There are four of us so far,” explains Blue. “None of us remember anything.”

The fourth person narrows his eyes at Purple and Yellow. “What’s with that dude’s snake face?” he asks.

“What’s with everyone hating me?” retorts Yellow. “First Blue, and Purple keeps giving me the side eye, and now you?”

“Hey, I never said it was bad,” says the fourth person. He puts a hand on his hip, like he’s expecting something to be there. “So do you guys have names, then?”

“We don’t know our names,” says Purple. “We’re calling each other by colors. So you’ll be Red.”

“Red?” Red thinks about this. “Well, that sounds sort of right… a bit too plain for my tastes, though. How about… Carmine? Or Cinnabar? Something cool.”

Blue shakes his head. “No, we already came up with a system and we’re going to stick to it. No naming yourself other off-brand shades of red.”

Red looks offended at that. “How dare you call Cinnabar off-brand? It is a _gorgeous_ color, it deserves better!”

“How do you even know the names for different shades of red anyway?” asks Yellow, who must’ve gotten tired of standing and is now lounging on the couch.

Red shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Interesting,” mutters Blue, scribbling something down in his notebook.

Yellow sighs, draping himself dramatically across the couch. “I’m hungry,” he announces.

“Me too,” agrees Purple. They weren’t before, but now that it’s been brought up they realize how empty their stomach is.

“Hm. So whatever we are, we’re able to feel hunger,” says Blue, writing something else down.

“Whatever we are? Aren’t we human?” asks Red.

“No,” say Purple and Blue in unison. They look at each other in surprise (he feels it too?), and Blue continues, “Don’t you feel it? The term ‘human’ just feels so wrong when describing us.”

“Also, I’m pretty sure humans can’t be half snake,” says Purple.

“Well whatever we are, I’m hungry,” says Yellow. “Do you think there’s a kitchen in here? Maybe down the hall?”

“Then what are we?” asks Red, ignoring Yellow. “If we’re not human?”

“Well, we’re definitely humanoid,” says Blue, “that is, having a body similar to that of a human. So we can rule out being any other types of animals, unless we’re some sort of undiscovered species of animal that looks exactly like a human.”

“So you’re saying we’re some sort of mythical creature then?” Purple jokes.

Red gasps, apparently taking Purple’s comment as a genuine suggestion. “Do you think we’re dragons?”

Blue rolls his eyes. “Do we look like dragons to you?”

“Witches? Maybe we’re witches!”

“We’re not witches.”

“Maybe we’re, like… witch-dragons!”

“Please stop.”

Red sticks his tongue out at Blue, and Blue responds by poking him with his pencil.

“Okay, so if we’re not witches or dragons-” starts Purple.

“Or witch-dragons,” adds Red.

“Or witch-dragons,” they repeat, “then what are we?”

“I’m not sure…” Blue writes some more things down in his notebook. “Maybe I have some books in my room on the subject.”

“Hey. If you want to know about fantasy creatures, that’s my department,” says Red.

Blue stares at him. “What, exactly, makes you think it is ‘your department?’”

“Well…” Red rubs his head. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I just feel like… I’m the fantasy guy, you know? Just like you’re the nerd guy,” he says, pointing at Blue.

“I’m the nerd guy?”

“Well, sure. You wear glasses, like a nerd, and you use big words and you carry around that notebook everywhere. Seems pretty nerdy to me.”

“He has a point, you know,” says Purple.

Blue huffs. “I am not a nerd.”

“Yeah, whatever, Teach.” says Red.

Purple thinks about this for a moment. “Isn’t it kind of interesting that we have these ideas, though? I mean, doesn’t that mean that like… maybe we knew each other or something?”

“I mean, considering we all woke up in the same house, which implies that we lived together, I’d say we almost definitely knew each other,” says Blue. “It is interesting, though.”

“And didn’t Yellow mention-” Purple freezes. “Wait. Where is Yellow?”

“Wasn’t he on the couch?” asks Red, turning around and looking at the empty couch.

“He was,” says Blue. “Where’d he go?”

“Don’t ask me!” Purple says, their voice raising without them really meaning it to. (they’re being accused again they didn’t do anything)

“Yellow?” calls Blue. “Where’d you go?”

He starts to wander around the living room, eyeing the paintings like Yellow might be hiding there.

“He mentioned being hungry. He probably just went to find a kitchen or something,” says Red, but he starts looking around the room anyway.

Purple bites their lip, and realizes that there’s already a well-worn dent on their bottom lip. Whoever they were before they lost their memory, they must have chewed their lip a lot. “I can check down the hall,” they offer.

“Good idea,” says Blue, now looking under the coffee table.

Purple wanders down the hall, peering into the open doors as they go. They see Red’s room, closest to the living room, and Blue’s room next to it. Then came a pair of two open doors that Purple hasn’t seen anyone go in or out of, so they aren’t sure who they belong to. Then their room, and a closed door with scratch marks on it.

Hold on.

They double back, counting the number of opened doors. Five. Weren’t only four open before?

Yellow must have opened another door.

They glance back at Red and Blue, who have mostly given up on trying to find Yellow and are now just arguing with each other. Maybe Purple should tell them before he goes into an unknown room…

_Go. It’s not like they’ll care if you’re gone._

They look down the hallway again before heading into the first door, closer to the living room. It has a bright, sunny feeling that they’re not entirely sure they like, but it’s certainly very nice. Looking around, they see what must be thousands of what looks like useless objects- children’s drawings and half destroyed jackets. Who the hell would hang on to all these things?

Low voices came from one corner of the room. One of them they recognized- it was Yellow’s. The other was higher pitched and bubbly (and clearly anxious). The room must belong to the bubbly voice.

“Hello? Yellow? Are you in here?”

The voices stop abruptly. There’s some hurried whispering, then Yellow comes into view and looks around for a moment before spotting Purple. “Oh! Purple! Sorry for bothering you, I just wanted to try opening another door… maybe I should have told you guys first.”

“Yeah, you should’ve!” Purple’s voice is raised without them meaning it to. “You scared me! I know we just met each other, but you should tell us before you run off like that!” (running away they ran away and then he ran away)

“Sorry.” Yellow winces. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah, well-” Purple stops as another person steps around the corner. He must be the one the bubbly voice belongs to, unless there are even more people in the room he doesn’t know about. The new bubbly person is wearing a blue polo and a hoodie around his shoulders (who wears hoodies like that) and he has large, round glasses. Fearful brown eyes stare at him from behind the glasses.

“I’m sorry, it was really my fault,” says the new person, shaking his hands worriedly.

“How was it your fault?” asks Yellow, turning to him. “I’m the one who came into your room without telling anyone.”

“Well, yeah… but I should have told you to go tell them where you were, instead of talking to you.”

Yellow sighs. “You didn’t even know there were other people until I told you.”

The bubbly person opens his mouth to argue again, but Yellow cuts him off. “Let’s go into the living room,” he suggests. “We can talk more there.”

The bubbly person nods, and the three of them head back out into the hall, where Red and Blue are still arguing. When they see Yellow, they stop and stare in surprise.

“I found another person,” says Yellow. “Sorry for not telling you I was gone.” He sits down on the couch, obviously not wanting to elaborate on where he found this other person, or if he remembers any more than the rest of them.

“Hi,” says the bubbly person, waving awkwardly. “I don’t remember anything either.”

The others stare at him for a while. “What are we going to call you?” asks Red finally.

“What?” asks the bubbly person nervously.

“Well, we’re calling each other by our colors,” says Red. “But you and Blue both wear blue.”

“Bubbles,” suggests Purple without really thinking.

“What?” asks the bubbly person.

“I- well, you act kind of bubbly, so you know, maybe Bubbles is a good name,” they stammer.

“And it starts with B, you know, for Blue.”

“I like that name!” says Bubbles. “It reminds me of something. Not sure what, though. Oh well!” He smiles and shrugs. “So I guess that makes figuring out everyone else’s name pretty easy, right? You’re Purple, and you’re Red, and you’re Yellow?”

“Yes, that’d be correct,” says Blue.

Bubbles looks over at Blue. “Hey! We have the same glasses!”

Blue glares at him. “Yep.”

Purple’s stomach grumbles. “I’m still hungry,” they say. “Would anyone happen to know where a kitchen is?”

Bubbles looks around. “I think it might be over here,” he says, pointing to a door on the side of the living room. He blinks. “I’m not sure how I know that, though. That’s kind of weird, right? Knowing something and not knowing why? Is this what amnesia’s like? Do you think-”

“Stop.” Blue cuts him off. “Let’s just go to the kitchen and get something to eat. Quickly. We still need to figure out who and where we are, and we can’t do that if we’re busy going on random tangents.”

Bubbles looks sort of upset, and Yellow glares at Blue. Blue ignores him and walks over to the kitchen, dragging Red with him.

Purple sighs and follows them. If they’re going to be stuck with these idiots until they get their memory back, it’s definitely not going to be fun.


	2. Clocks and Board Games

Bubbles was worried.

It had turned out that he was right about where the kitchen was (that’s not what he was worried about though). It had also turned out that he knew how to cook (although he didn’t know why he knew how to cook was he a cook before? this was so weird) and he had found some pasta in the cabinet, so he made pasta for everyone. (he wasn’t worried about that either. it would be pretty hard to get worried about pasta, unless it turned into a giant pasta monster and tried to kill you…)

No, Bubbles was worried about the other people he ended up stuck with. (well, he wasn’t really stuck with them per se. Actually maybe he was, because they still hadn’t found the front door to whatever building they were in.) They seemed very… hostile. Purple kept glaring at Yellow, Yellow kept staring (but not glaring, glaring is when they’re mad and staring is just looking for a long time) at Bubbles, Blue kept glaring at Bubbles and Red, and Red kept trying to get Blue’s attention. The whole thing was very strange, because weren’t they supposed to not even know each other? Why did everyone hate everyone else?

Well, Yellow doesn’t seem to hate him, at least. Bubbles watches him eat his pasta, occasionally looking around the table at the other people. (Blue had insisted that they weren’t really people, but he wasn’t sure what else to call them) He catches Bubbles staring at him and waves, giving him a small smile. Bubbles smiles back. He isn’t entirely sure he trusts Yellow, but at least he’s friendly.

Red puts down his fork and glances over Blue’s shoulder at the notebook he’s scribbling in. “Whatchya writing there, Teach?” he asks. Blue doesn’t respond, and moves farther away from Red.

“I think,” says Blue finally, “that we must be some sort of shapeshifters.”

“What makes you say that?” asks Bubbles. (Blue definitely doesn’t like him. Yep, there he goes, glaring at Bubbles again.)

“Well, I can’t think of any other nonhuman creatures that look exactly like humans, but can still have features like Yellow’s snake face,” says Blue, pointing his pencil at Yellow. “Shapeshifters can take on any shape they want, which would explain why we look like this.”

“Does it explain why we all look the same?” asks Red.

There’s a beat of silence while everyone stares at Red. “What?” asks Blue.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you didn’t notice!” says Red. “I mean, we all look sort of different. Like Purple’s got the eyeshadow, and you and Bubbles have glasses, like nerds. But we’ve all got the same hair, the same colored eyes, basically the same face… you see it too, right?”

Bubbles looks around, and he realizes that Red is right. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but now that it’s been pointed out it’s impossible for him to ignore. Everyone has pretty much the same face, the same body shape… heck, even their voices sound similar, like they’re all doing different impressions of each other. (like acting. acting is important. was he an actor?)

Blue nods. “I do see that now. That’s very odd.” He writes something else down in his notebook, but it’s clear that he doesn’t really care about this development. “Perhaps we were all very close before, and decided to shapeshift to look like each other for some sort of friendship related reason.”

“Or maybe we were part of a cult that made us all look the same,” suggests Purple.

Blue frowns. “I don’t think-”

“I was kidding. Jeez.” Purple pokes at what’s left of their pasta. “You really don’t have a sense of humor, do you?”

“I suppose not,” says Blue. “Anyways, I would like to test the theory that we’re all shapeshifters. Could one of you try to shapeshift into something else? It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“Why don’t you do it?” says Yellow. “Since you’re the one who brought it up.”

“Fine,” says Blue, standing up. “Let’s see, how do you do this…” He stands there for a minute with his eyes shut, looking sort of foolish. (not that Bubbles would ever tell him that that would hurt his feelings and then he’d be sad) After a minute he says, “I don’t think I can do it. Maybe someone else should try.”

Purple laughs under his breath, and Blue glares at him. Yellow sighs. “Maybe we’re not shapeshifters, then. Maybe we’re something else.”

“What else could we be?” asks Blue. He’s clearly upset that his experiment didn’t work. (how can Bubbles cheer him up he can’t be sad and that’s bad)

“I dunno.”

“Right. Well, that’s really helpful.”

“Hey, I know just as much as you do-”

“You still have a different mind, you should be able to come up with something new-”

Bubbles stands up from the table and goes back to the living room, trying to block out the sound of the arguing. He doesn’t like it when they argue. (wait they only argued once does that mean they argued before? this is so strange he doesn’t like it he wants to remember)

He lies down on the couch, hugging one of the cushions. There’s a shelf of books next to the couch, and he pulls one out. Just to look at. (maybe he’s read it already would he remember it then or not? he doesn’t know how this works he’ll have to ask Blue but Blue doesn’t like him)

The cover says _Astronomy for Beginners._ He flips through it- it seems like a basic introduction to the night sky, and something called “deep space.” There are a few notes scribbled in the margins, but the handwriting is too small and messy for him to read. He wonders who wrote them. Did he write them? It’s very strange, looking at something and wondering if he did it. It’s like trying to put together a mystery, except the mystery is his own brain.

A horrible thought occurs to him. What if he was something terrible before? What if he was some kind of serial killer, or a bully or some other kind of jerk? And once he meets people that remember him, they’ll expect him to go back to his evil self? He knows for a fact that he does NOT want to be evil. He wants to be good and nice and make sure everyone is happy! That’s one thing he’s sure of.

He decides not to think about that. Instead he flips back to the beginning of the book, where he sees another scribbled note on the title page. This one is written in slightly bigger writing, so he can actually read what it says.

_Roman,_

_You mentioned wanting to learn more about astronomy. I haven’t the slightest clue why, but here is a book on the basics anyways. I hope you enjoy it and that you aren’t using it for any of your strangely elaborate quests in the Imagination._

~~_Affectionately,_ ~~

_Sincerely, Logan_

Bubbles stares at the note for a while. Roman… that must be someone here, right? Otherwise why would they have the book? (maybe it was stolen. maybe they’re a gang of thieves and none of this stuff is theirs.) So someone here is named Roman, or has a nickname of Roman, or knows someone named Roman and stole their book.

Interesting.

And what about the person who gave them the book? Logan? Are they here too? Probably not, because then why would they bother writing that stuff in the book? They’d just hand it to them and say whatever they wanted to say then and there.

Maybe he should talk to Blue about it. He seems smart enough to figure out what this means. But what if Blue just glares at him again? (it’s like before he hates him again) Maybe he should just figure it out on his own.

He sighs. Turning back to the bookshelf, he notices a small spiral-bound notebook on the top shelf. He pulls it down and looks it over, flipping through it. It’s a light blue shade that almost matches his shirt, and there’s a pen clipped to the front cover. There’s no writing in it, but the first couple of pages are covered with doodles of dogs and stars.

An idea occurs to him. He pulls out the pen and turns to the first clean page. On the top, he writes _Things I Know._

He taps the pen against his chin, thinking.

_Things I Know_

_There are five of us._

_We wear different colors. There’s Yellow, Red, Blue, Purple, and me, Bubbles, who also wears blue but Blue called the name first._

_There’s six doors. Only five of them have been opened._

_I know where the kitchen is and I know how to make food._

_The room I woke up in is really messy._

I _woke up last out of all of us. Yellow had to wake me up._

_Me and Blue have the same glasses._

_Blue thinks that we aren’t human. I sort of agree, because Yellow has a snake face and that’s not normal for humans I don’t think._

_We haven’t found a way out of wherever we are yet._

_There’s a book on the shelf that has a note addressed to “Roman” from someone called “Logan.”_

He looks over the list, and he realizes just how little he really knows. Maybe he should have expected that, considering that he’s only been awake for about half a day, but it’s still scary.

He makes another list, titling it _Things I Want To Know._

_ Things I Want To Know  _

_What our actual names are._

_Where we are._

_Are we actually not human? And if not, what are we?_

_What’s in the last room?_

_Why does Blue hate me?_

_Who’s Roman, and why do we have his book?_

_What time is it, actually?_

_What day is it?_

He sighs again. It’s less than he expected, but it’s still a lot of things. How is he supposed to figure any of it out? He’s no detective. (he was once and then he got mad) He can’t put together the clues like some sort of Sherlock Holmes.

Maybe he can start with something easy. What time is it? There has to be a clock or a calendar somewhere. He’s not wearing a watch, and he doesn’t have a phone either. He does have a lot of stuff in his room. (the room he woke up in. maybe not his room.) Maybe there’s something in there.

\- - -

He soon learns that searching his room for anything is a long process. He’s found at least 12 old calendars from years before 2018, but all that tells him is that he hasn’t used a calendar since 2018. He’s also found 5 clocks and 3 watches, all of which are broken. No phones so far, unless you count the dead flip phones. Why did whoever owned this room insist on collecting all this junk?

Also, since he’s come into the room he’s had a growing headache. It’s almost unbearable now, and he can barely focus on what’s in front of him. Maybe this means he should leave, but he likes it in here. It’s comforting, if you ignore the raging headache. Besides, moving is kind of hard when it feels like someone’s smashed your brain into bits.

He finds some neckties that are slightly ripped up or stained, and a red sash. Still no clocks, though. God, why does his head hurt so badly?

He finds some old-looking papers tacked up on the wall, written with a child’s handwriting. They seem important, but he can’t put his finger on why. And whenever he tries, his head just hurts even worse.

He tries to keep searching through the pile of old-looking papers, but he can’t even read them. His vision swims, and shapes fade into a blur of colors. He curls up on the floor, trying to resist the urge to scream.

“ _Patton, why don’t you keep any actual clocks in here?”_

_“Never saw a use for them.”_

_“Wha- they’re one of the most important tools to be invented! You need to know what time it is, otherwise how do you schedule anything?”_

_“I just guess!”_

_“And you guess correctly enough to be on time for every single video?”_

_“Most of the time.”_

_“I don’t even know what to say to that.”_

_“A lot of people get confused when I explain how I keep time. I guess you could say that their brains-”_

_“Wait no don’t-”_

_“Clocked out! Get it? Clocked out?”_

_“Yes, I get it. Sadly.”_

_“I’m hilarious.”_

_“Oh, there’s my tie. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”_

Bubbles opens his eyes.

He didn’t even know they were closed.

At least his headache is gone now, but it’s been replaced with… whatever that was. He wasn’t actually listening to a conversation, there’s no one else in the room. Maybe there was a tape recorder in the room or something that he accidentally turned on.

Something tells him that isn’t what happened.

He should get out of the room. It’s lost its comforting feeling and is now just scary, like it’s threatening to do something evil. Bubbles pulls himself to his feet and slowly drags himself out of the room.

“Bubbles!” exclaims Red once he comes out. The others must have finished arguing and are now back in the living room, looking mildly worried. “We thought we’d lost you!”

“People really need to stop wandering off without telling us,” says Purple, with a significant look at Yellow. Yellow shrugs.

“What were you doing in there, Bubbles?” asks Blue.

“I was looking for a clock,” says Bubbles. No reason to lie. “I wanted to know what time it was.”

“That’s actually a good point,” says Blue, tapping his pencil against his chin. “Has anyone seen a clock in here? Or a calendar, for that matter? Does anyone know what the date is?”

Everyone shakes their heads. “Well, did you find anything?” asks Blue.

“No,” says Bubbles. “There’s a lot of stuff in my room. Well I guess it’s not necessarily my room, but it’s the room I woke up in, so…”

“It’s fine, call it your room,” says Red.

“Anyways, there’s a lot of stuff in my room. I know that the year is after 2018, though.”

“Oh yeah, that’s real helpful,” says Yellow sarcastically.

“It might be,” says Blue, writing something down. “Let’s put a pin in that. Did you find anything else of interest in your room?”

“Well…” Bubbles bites his lip. “The strangest thing happened. I got this really bad headache when I went in there, like my brain had exploded or something. And then I… heard something? Like two people talking. And then it stopped and my headache was gone.”

“Hm,” says Blue, writing more in his notebook. “And no one else was there?”

“No. I think I just stepped on a tape recorder or something.”

“What were the two people talking about?” asks Red.

“Clocks, actually. Funny coincidence, right? They were talking about how one of them didn’t have any clocks in their room, and the other one was upset with them for it.”

Blue started writing more furiously. “And what were you seeing while you heard this? Did you actually see two people?” “No… it was like I blanked out, sorta? I think my eyes were closed.”

“Weird.” Blue writes something else down and closes his notebook.

Purple picks at the patches on their hoodie. “Can we, like… tell someone before you go somewhere? Because this is the second time someone’s left without telling someone and we freaked out.”

“I said I was sorry,” says Yellow, rolling his eyes.

“I think it’s a good idea,” says Bubbles. “Sorry for scaring you, kiddo.”

“It’s fine.”

Blue pushes up his glasses. “There was a clock in my room. I’m going to go check the time.”

He stands up and leaves the room. The other four sides (sides? where did his brain get that from) stare at each other.

“Sooo…” says Red, “Anyone wanna play truth or dare?”

“How are we supposed to do that?” asks Yellow. “We’ve been around for like half a day, at best. What truths would we have?”

“Fine, we’ll just play dare or dare then,” says Red.

“What would we dare each other to do? We don’t even know where we are.”

“Look, I’m trying to break the ice here, give me a break,” says Red with an exaggerated sigh. “Would you rather we just sit here staring at each other?”

“I think it’s a good idea!” says Bubbles. (please just make him happy) “The breaking the ice part, not the staring at each other. Maybe we could play a different game? I think there are some board games on the shelf.”

Red perks up at that. “Yeah! Do you think we have Monopoly?”

Purple rubs their head. “We’ve lost all our memories and you want to play Monopoly?”

“Well, what would you suggest, Emo Nightmare?” demands Red. “Risk?”

“I want to play Clue,” says Yellow.

“Maybe we can take turns picking the game,” suggests Bubbles. (please don’t argue please please please)

“We shouldn’t be playing games at all!” protests Purple. “We should be figuring out who we are! Being productive!”

“Well now you just sound like Blue,” mutters Red.

“When has Blue ever said something like that?”

“Guys, please don’t argue,” says Bubbles, his voice shaking. “Purple, maybe we can play Monopoly and talk about memories? Would that be okay with you?”

“I want to play Clue,” says Yellow.

“I didn’t ask you, Yellow,” says Bubbles, his voice slightly harsher than he intended. “Sorry. Maybe we can play Clue next time, okay?”

Yellow is about to respond, but then Blue runs out of his room carrying an assortment of watches. “Okay, guys, I found enough watches for all of us to be able to tell the time,” he says.

“Why the hell did you have five watches in your room?” asks Purple.

“Actually, I had more!” says Blue brightly. “Anyway, if the clocks in there are correct, it’s about 2 pm. I also found a calendar and have determined that it is at least May 10th, if not later.”

“You had… over five watches in your room.” Yellow seems to have filtered out the rest of the sentence.

“Yep! I had at least 20,” says Blue.

“Oh my god."

“Hey Blue, you wanna play Monopoly with us?” asks Red.

“Play Monopoly and discuss who the fuck we are,” corrects Purple.

“Yeah, what they said,” says Red.

“I am not going to play Monopoly with you. I am going to be sensible, and-”

Bubbles can feel another argument coming on. He opens his notebook and bites his pen, trying to tune it out. Maybe he can add some more things to his lists.

_Things I Know_

_It’s noon now, so we must have woken up around 10 or 11._

_Blue has a lot of watches in his room._

_It’s at least May 10th._

_When I went into my room I got a headache and then I heard some voices talking about clocks._

_ Things I Want To Know _

_What were those voices? They felt important._

_Why does Blue have so many watches in his room? I’m pretty sure that’s not a normal amount._

_Actually, what is a normal amount of watches to have in your room?_

Blue and Red have started yelling. Bubbles bites harder on his pen.

“Would both of you shut up?” says Yellow. His voice isn’t raised, exactly, but it’s definitely overpowering the other voices in the room. “Can’t you see you’re making Bubbles upset?”

The other two go silent, and Bubbles shoots Yellow a grateful smile. Yellow sighs. “Listen. Here’s what we’re going to do, okay? We’re going to play Monopoly. Once. After that, we’re going to have a discussion about what we know so far. I hope that sounds fair, because that’s what we’re doing.”

Then he pulls out the Monopoly box and drops it on the table. “I call top hat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fanfic was sponsored by Little Shop of Horrors! are other musicals too sad to listen to while writing? try Little Shop of Horrors, a classic musical that isn't at all way more messed up than you remember! 
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter, wash your hands and I'll see you next week!


	3. People You Don't Remember: Now With Tentacles!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i barely had time to proofread this because i procrastinated a lot this week. so if you notice any typos please point them out. 
> 
> uhh, trigger warning? there's some brief discussions of asylums and cults, like nothing graphic but they're brought up in conversation.

Red drums his fingers on the table, staring down at the gameboard. In the two hours (he was now able to time it, because of Blue’s watches) they’d been playing, he had bought three properties, gained about a thousand dollars, and then lost two thousand.

He’s decided that he doesn’t like Monopoly.

Yellow, on the other hand, has bought three quarters of the board and is slowly sapping the other players of their money. Purple has accused him of cheating twice, but Yellow claimed that he’d just forgotten the rules, which is an annoyingly good excuse.

“Hey Red, it’s your turn.” Bubbles pokes him and hands him the dice. Red sighs. Bubbles doesn’t seem to understand how to play Monopoly, which confuses Red. He would have thought it’s just because Bubbles forgot the rules, but everyone else remembers how to play Monopoly. Maybe he’s just never played it before.

Red rolls a four and lands on the ‘go to jail’ space. “Oh, come on!” he complains, pushing his piece over to jail. “That’s like, the fourth time!”

“The fifth time, actually,” corrects Blue, taking the dice from him.

“Whatever! The point is, this game hates me!”

Purple rolls their eyes. “Unless this game has been cursed, I sort of doubt an inanimate object can hate you.”

“Oooo, maybe it has been cursed! We’re witch-dragons, I told you!” he says, bouncing and accidentally upsetting the game pieces.

Purple sighs (they seem to do that a lot) and puts the pieces back. “I was kidding. What’s with your weird fantasy obsession?”

Red shrugs. “Oh, hey, Blue! You just landed on my property.”

“Goddamnit,” mutters Blue, handing him a ten dollar bill.

“Hey, friends, do you think we could watch the language?” asks Bubbles.

No one responds.

“Hey, speaking of…” continues Bubbles, “Do you think that we were friends before? Because it’d be kind of weird if we were all living together and not friends, but we keep arguing, so maybe we weren’t? Why would we be living together and not be friends, though?”

“This whole situation is weird,” says Yellow. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that people don’t get amnesia as a group.”

“You’re right,” says Blue, passing him the dice. “Usually amnesia is due to a head injury, and we all seem uninjured. Sometimes it can be due to excessive consumption of drugs or alcohol, but I doubt that all of us could have consumed enough substances to lose our memories.”

“So we got cursed!’ insists Red. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? And who’s to say magic isn’t a thing? Maybe we’ve just forgotten about all the cool stuff we could do!”

“Wouldn’t we, like… find wands somewhere if we were magicians, though?” asks Bubbles.

“I’m going to buy Park Place,” says Yellow.

“Maybe we can do wandless magic. There are lots of different types of magic,” says Red. “Potions, using a wand, controlling elements…”

“You need to pay the bank,” Purple reminds Yellow. “And don’t you guys think it’s kind of weird that we can remember all these facts? Isn’t the point of amnesia that we forget, like… everything?”

“Actually, no,” says Blue. “We’ve only forgotten our memories of events, not our memories of facts. That’s common for amnesia. You can remember, for example, how to ride a bike, but not who taught you.”

“Still weird.” Purple shrugs. “Yellow, Park Place costs 350, not 300."

“Dang it,” mutters Yellow, sliding another fifty dollar bill into the bank.

“So if we’re magicians, we’ll still remember how to do magic?” asks Red.

“I’m not sure, but it’s irrelevant anyways, because magic doesn’t exist.” says Blue.

“How do you know that? Maybe it does and you just forgot!”

“Magic doesn’t exist. That’s a fact.” Blue shrugs. “It’s your turn, Bubbles.”

“Oh, sorry!” Bubbles puts down his notebook and takes the dice. “But seriously, how do you know that magic doesn’t exist? I think-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a door slamming. The door at the end of the hall opens, and a person dressed in green and black steps out, looking around in alarm. He’s carrying… one of those spiky ball things, Red can’t remember the name. He spots the living room and raises his weapon warily. “Who are you guys?" He pauses. "Who am _I_? Did you do this to me?”

There’s a long silence until Blue finally speaks. “We don’t know the answer to any of those questions,” he says calmly. “I’m guessing you’ve lost your memory too?”

He nods. “You guys don’t remember anything either?”

“No.” The new person lowers his weapon slightly, narrowing his eyes at Red. Red recognizes him, sort of. It’s almost like staring at himself. Well technically looking at any of the people here would be like staring at himself, considering they all have the same face, but this feels different somehow.

 _It’s probably just because his outfit looks like mine_ , Red tells himself, trying to focus back on what Blue is saying.

“-so everything will be much easier if you just sit down and talk rationally with us,” Blue finishes.

“Fine, but I want to keep this with me,” says the new person, gesturing to his weapon.

“You’d better not hit anyone with it,” warns Purple.

“I won’t,” the new person promises. He looks around the living room. “So, do you guys have names, or…?”

“We don’t know our names, considering we’ve lost all are memories,” says Purple sarcastically. “We’re calling each other by our colors. So you’ll be Green.”

“Green. Good name,” says Green, putting his weapon on the floor and leaning on it. “And what are all of your names?”

“I’m Blue,” says Blue, “That’s Purple, Yellow, Bubbles, and that’s Red,” he continues, pointing at each side as he names them.

Green glances at Red again. “Nice to meet you,” he says, sitting down next to Purple. “So how long have you guys been awake?”

“Since about ten this morning, we think,” says Blue, drumming his fingers on the table. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yep! If I had woken up earlier, I would have come out of my room right away.”

Red tries to stop staring at Green and glances back at Bubbles, who is scribbling furiously in his notebook. “Whatya writing there, Bub?” he asks.

Bubbles hurriedly shuts his notebook. “Uh, nothing important.” He glances around frantically. “So, Green, what’s that big spiky thing you’re holding?”

Green holds his weapon up in the air. “This, my friend, is a morning star!” He pauses. “Not sure how I knew that, though…” (morning star, that’s what it’s called.) (this bothers Red slightly, but he tries not to think about it.)

“Yes, we just went through this,” sighs Blue. “We seem to have lost our memories of events, but we’re still able to recall facts.”

“Ohhh. Okay. Neat.” Green bounces a little. “Anyway, this is a morning star. Good for smashing people’s heads in.”

“I hope you don’t speak from experience,” says Yellow, looking vaguely amused.

“I’m not sure!” says Green. “Guess I’ll have to get my memories back and find out!”

Purple leans a little farther away from him.

“So, are we going to keep playing or not?” asks Red, spinning the dice in his hand idly.

“We’ll have to start over so that Green can play with us,” says Purple. “Or he could just watch.”

“Yeah, how about he just watches,” agrees Red immediately. (don’t give him too much control)

“What? No, I wanna play!” says Green.

“Let him play. You’re losing this game anyway,” says Yellow. Red huffs. (they’re siding with him again why do they keep agreeing with him)

“Fine, but I get the top hat this time.”

“Oh, no. The top hat is my lucky piece, you can’t have it.”

“How do you even know it’s your lucky piece?”

“I’ve never lost while playing with it!”

“Okay, okay. Red, let Yellow have the top hat. There’s no reason to change it. You can have the thimble,” says Bubbles, anxiously pushing Red and Yellow apart. Yellow smirks.

Blue sighs. “This is a waste of time. We should just put the game away and be done with it.”

“Yeah, and start, oh I don’t know, figuring out where we are,” says Purple. “We don’t even know how to get out of here! What if we run out of food? Or the electricity goes off? Things cost money, you know. Oh god- what if we have jobs? What if we’re going to get fired because we didn’t show up to work?”

“Hey.” Green puts his hand on Purple’s wrist. “We’ll be fine, okay? Even if we’re all stuck here, we can still drink our pee if we need to.”

“Oh yeah, that’s super comforting,” says Purple, rolling his eyes, but he does seem a bit more relaxed.

“And I’m sure that our bosses will understand if we miss work because we lost all our memories,” says Blue. “If they don’t, I don’t think that we’d want to work for them anyway.”

“Wait…” says Green, “You haven’t even found a door to outside? Are there even any windows?”

“Not that we’ve seen,” says Yellow. “It is kind of strange, isn’t it?”

“Kind of strange?” asks Purple, the nervous tone returning to his voice. “Most houses at least make it easy to see the outside!”

“What if it’s not a house?” asks Green. There’s a pause.

“What?” asks Bubbles “What else would it be?”

“What if it’s like… an insane asylum? And we’re locked up in here for our own safety?” Green narrows his eyes at the others. “Maybe I’m hallucinating all of you.”

“Really?” asks Bubbles, his eyebrows knitting together. “But I feel real. I can’t be a hallucination.”

“Maybe you’re hallucinating us,” suggests Purple. Bubbles looks sort of panicked now. “Wait- but-”

“Alright, let’s not explore that idea right now,” says Yellow. “Let’s just assume we’re all real.”

Red rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure insane asylums don’t have Monopoly.” (stupid stupid just like all of his ideas)

Green taps his chin thoughtfully. “Okay, so we’re not in an insane asylum… maybe we’re in a spaceship! And we all lost our memories after a run-in with an asteroid!”

“Spaceships don’t look like this,” says Blue.

“Look, I’m trying to help you here!” says Green. “There’s no need to attack me!”

“I’m just stating facts,” says Blue. “We’re most likely in a house, just a strange one with no windows.”

“Or we’re in a witch’s house and we’re all witch-dragons!” adds Red.

“Ohhh, yeah!” agrees Green. “Or maybe we’re all vampires and we’ll die if we see sunlight!”

“Hey, that’d be cool!” says Purple. “But I refuse to test that theory by stepping out into light and seeing if it kills me.”

“Actually, all we’d have to do is find a mirror,” says Yellow. “Cause vampire’s reflections don’t show up in mirrors.”

“Yeah, has anyone seen a mirror?” asks Green.

“There’s one in my room,” says Red. “And I saw my reflection in it, so sorry, but I don’t think we’re vampires.”

Green sighs and flops backwards. “Aw, man.”

“I have concluded that we are nonhuman, however,” says Blue. “Judging by Yellow’s scales, and the fact that we all have the same face.”

“We do?” asks Green. “Huh. Yeah, we do.”

“I still think it’s because we used to be a cult who all worshipped the same person and were forced to look like him,” says Purple.

“Oh, good idea!” says Green. “Maybe we’re in a cult, and this is just part of the initiation process!”

“I highly doubt that,” says Blue.

Yellow rests his chin on his hands, looking amused. “Oh? Then what do you think we are, if you disagree with every idea we’ve come up with so far?”

“I- well I’m not sure yet,” says Blue. “But we’re almost definitely not dragons, or witches, or witch-dragons, or vampires, or part of some weird cult.”

“Or hallucinations,” says Green. “Don’t forget hallucinations.”

“Or hallucinations,” says Blue. “I still think we’re shapeshifters, even though my experiment failed.”

“Ohhhh! Shapeshifters?” Green sits up in excitement. “I wanna try shapeshifting!”

“I don’t think it will work,” says Bubbles. “Blue tried it and he couldn’t do it.”

“Eh, maybe Blue’s just weak,” says Yellow. "Give it a try, Green." 

“I am not!” says Blue.

Green rolls his eyes. “I still wanna try it!” He screws up his face and sits very still.

“It’s not going to work-” starts Red, but before he can finish his sentence, there’s a popping sound and-

“Are those tentacles?” asks Purple.

Green lifts up one tentacle and waves it around. “I think so,” he says.

“What the hell?” asks Yellow. “You have tentacles now?”

“It would seem so, yes,” says Blue. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” says Green, spinning around and watching his tentacles flap around. “I just kinda imagined it- and it happened!”

“Why were you imagining yourself with tentacles in the first place?” asks Red, crossing his arms. (tentacles gripping him yeah right he didn’t mean it.)

Green shrugs again. “Dunno.”

“I think it’s kind of neat,” says Purple, poking a tentacle.

Red glaces back at Bubbles and sees that he’s still scribbling in his notebook. “What do you think, Bubbles?” he asks.

Bubbles hurriedly shuts his notebook. “I think it’s pretty neato! I like octopuses.”

Green smiles. “See? Someone appreciates my cephalopod transformation!”

“I never said I didn’t,” mutters Red. (he didn’t mean to why are they mad)

“Do you think you can change back?” asks Blue, lifting a tentacle with his pencil.

“Maybe.” Green shrugs. “I don’t want to, though.”

“You’re just going to walk around with tentacles on your back?”

“Yep!”

“What purpose would that serve?”

“It looks cool! You people don’t seem to know anything about fashion, though.” Green snatches Yellow’s hat away. “What is this? A bowler hat? No one wears that anymore.”

Yellow glares at him and grabs his hat back. “Well, you look like someone’s weird gay uncle on Halloween, so I don’t think you have the right to judge.”

“Okay, okay, let’s be nice,” says Bubbles. He looks at his watch. “I was thinking of going through the kitchen and cooking dinner for everyone, does anyone wanna help?”

Red raises his hand. “I’ll help.” Anything to get out of being in the same room as Green.

“I’ll help too, I suppose,” says Yellow. “I don’t trust you two in the kitchen.”

“Hey!” protests Red. “I could have been a master chef before! Don’t be so quick to judge, my good friend!”

Yellow blinks. “We’re not- okay. Whatever. Let’s just get this whole thing over with.”

“Come on!” squeaks Bubbles excitedly, running over to the kitchen and dragging Yellow and Red with him. “So, what do you two think we should make?”

“I dunno,” says Yellow. “Eggs? Eggs are yummy.”

“Yeah, but eggs are a breakfast food,” says Red.

“Actually, while some variations are usually eaten at breakfast, there are some that can be eaten with dinner!” says Bubbles, looking happy that he knows something relevant for once. “Like hard boiled eggs, which are a popular lunch food! Or we could just have breakfast for dinner, since we didn’t have breakfast this morning!” He thinks for a minute. “We could do, like, an egg buffet, or-”

“Woah, slow down there,” says Red. “You haven’t even asked me what I want.”

“Oh, right. Sorry!” Bubbles smiles apologetically. “What do you think we should make, Red?”

“I want cake!” announces Red.

Yellow hits him on the arm. “You can’t have cake for dinner, dumbass.”

“Well, you can’t have eggs for dinner either!”

“Okay, okay, let’s not fight,” says Bubbles. “How about… breakfast for dinner, with eggs and pancakes, and cake for dessert?”

“Sounds fair,” says Yellow.

“Okay!” says Bubbles cheerfully. “I’ll make the pancakes, Yellow can make some eggs, and Red, maybe you can try and find some cake mix?”

“Okay,” says Red, looking across the kitchen. He’s not entirely sure what the normal amount of cabinets to have in a kitchen is, but it’s probably less than the number of cabinets in this kitchen. He counts at least ten on one wall, and even more across from that. And after combing through a couple cabinets, he discovers that most of them are packed with the most random assortment of objects. There’s a lot of cookies, goldfish, and juice boxes, as well as little notes that say things like “you’re doing great!” or “i love you!” taped onto them. Eventually Red finds some chocolate cake mix, along with a note taped on it that says “no cake before dinner, kiddo!”

“This is the weirdest thing,” he mutters as he pours the mix into a bowl.

“What is?” asks Yellow.

“The food here. It’s like, ninety percent little kid food.”

“Little kid food?”

“You know, like juice boxes, goldfish and stuff. Things little kids eat.”

“How do you know what little kids eat?”

“Would you stop asking that every time I say anything?” asks Red, exasperated. “I don’t know how I know. I just do.”

Bubbles pauses and pulls out his notebook again. “That’s not that weird, though. I mean, goldfish is delicious and if we only let kids eat it we’d be doing humanity a great disservice.”

Yellow laughs. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say it was you who bought the goldfish.”

“I don’t know!” says Bubbles, putting his notebook away and turning back to the stove.

Red sighs and starts mixing the ingredients together. Somehow Yellow and Bubbles seem… closer? They’re still very awkward around each other, just like everyone else, but the way they talk and move… it’s like they have some sort of inside joke that the others don’t understand.

That’s a good metaphor, actually. He’ll have to write that one down.

He pours the cake batter into a pan and waits for Bubbles to step away so that he can put it in the oven. The cake was easier for him to make than he expected, but he still definitely hadn’t been a master chef before. Bubbles might have been, though. He’s already made nine pancakes in various shapes and colors.

“Uh, could I use the oven?” asks Red.

“Oh! Sorry,” says Bubbles, moving aside for him to put in the cake. “Hey, did you say there were notes in the cabinet?”

“Yeah… I guess one of us must have written them,” says Red, pulling down a couple of the notes. “I can’t see how they would be helpful, though. They mostly just have inspirational messages on them.”

“Maybe one of us was a therapist,” suggests Bubbles. “Or like… what’s the word? A life coach. Yeah, one of those people.”

“God, I hope not,” says Yellow. “Life coaches are really annoying.”

Bubbles ignores this comment. “Could I see the notes?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Red hands him the notes. “I don’t see how they’d be helpful at all, though.”

“Hey, you never know.” Bubbles pockets the notes and winks. “Anyway, you want to help me with these pancakes?”

Red nods, and Bubbles moves to give him space to watch the stove.

The next hour passes in relative silence, only interrupted by the sounds of batter sizzling and the beeps of the oven. Finally Yellow looks over at the pile of pancakes next to the stove and says “I think we have enough pancakes now, Bubbles.”

Red follows Yellow’s gaze and realizes that they’ve managed to make a pile so large it’s threatening to fall over. He doesn’t remember making that many, and he also doesn’t think that a person should be able to make that many pancakes in an hour, but then again he’s an amnesiac. So maybe he isn’t the most reliable source of information.

“I’ll go tell the others that dinner’s ready,” says Bubbles cheerfully, apparently unconcerned with the number of pancakes they’ve made. “Would you two mind setting the table?” He heads out into the living room, leaving Yellow and Red alone.

Yellow opens the cupboard and starts getting out plates. Red isn’t sure, but it seems like Yellow’s deliberately not looking at him.

“So…” says Red after a minute. “You like pancakes?”

“No,” says Yellow, his face blank. “I’m not going to eat anything tonight, because I hate pancakes just that much.”

Red blinks at him.

Yellow rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding. Jeez. No one here has a sense of humor.” He rubs his scales. “Could you help me a bit here?”

“Oh. Right, sorry.” Red grabs some plates and puts them on the table. “Um. So. You do like pancakes?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I sort of remember the taste, and they taste pretty good. I think waffles taste better, though.”

“What? Waffles are a disgrace to breakfast foods! How could you?”

“Waffles have a better texture.”

“No! They do not! The texture is absolutely awful!”

Yellow smirks. “I guess you remember eating waffles, then.”

“I mean, I remember the taste. And the horrible, horrible texture.” Red puts a hand to his forehead dramatically. “If I ever ate waffles, it would have been a terrible memory. I hope I never remember it.”

Yellow’s smile disappears. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“I’ve lost everything. _We’ve_ lost everything. Don’t you understand that? We’ve lost all our memories… that’s basically what makes us us, you know? And you don’t want to remember?”

“It was just a joke.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny.” Yellow rubs his face again. “I’m sorry. Just finish setting the table, okay?”

Red nods, and a quiet settles over the room.

The silence is broken by Bubbles running into the room, dragging the others behind him.

“Holy cow,” says Purple. “That’s a lot of pancakes.”

“Well, nothing wrong with leftovers!” chirps Bubbles, sliding into the nearest seat. “Come on, sit down. I’m starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this ends kind of abruptly, but i couldn't find another good place to end it for like... another chapter so yeah it ends here. 
> 
> this fanfic was sponsored by The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals! it's a really funny musical to put on in the background and bop to while you write, and WAIT THAT'S ACTUALLY KIND OF SAD HOLY SHIT. 
> 
> see you on the next chapter, and wash your hands!


End file.
